Fan(,) you feel it?

It's getting really hot. This must be what menopause feels like--I can actually feel my thoughts accelerating with the temperature. As with most things, I had a big plan on how to deal with the heat. Part of the plan was not to turn on the fan in my room until March (when apparently, it gets really hot...my family has bet that I will melt somewhere around mid-March), but today I finally caved. I dragged myself over to my bed and turned on the fan switch. If my life was a movie, this would be one of the scenes that merit a "flash forward" between Anshula pre-fan, and Anshula post-fan.

The problem with practicing restraint is that when you do finally give into whatever it was you were trying not to do, it feels so good that you wonder why you bothered to stop yourself to begin with. As I sat under my newly mobilized fan, feeling the air on my face, I wondered why on earth I hadn't turned the bloody thing on sooner. What difference does a week make? For that matter, what difference does any boundary make? I started to apply my new-found principle everywhere: Why stop at just one box of chocolates a month? Does it really make a difference if you have one box of chocolate plus one extra chocolate? And by that logic, why not just make it two boxes of chocolate?

In fact, under the aura of my fan, I started to solve all the world's problems. Forget all these territorial disputes, they're just arbitrary lines anyways. Would it really matter if I was a citizen of Canamerica as opposed to just plain Canada? No, not really (at this point, I imagined the look on Alim's face).

And just as I was getting worked up enough to deal with intergalactic space travel, the power cut out and I was plunged back into Pune's soupy heat.

Moral of the story: Heat induced menopause sucks. Fans are amazing. And, I'm entitled to an extra chocolate every month; that doesn't mean it will be there.